


Then All That You Built Will Come Tumbling Down

by amathela



Category: Rookie Blue
Genre: F/M, Friendship, Horses, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-08-25
Updated: 2011-08-25
Packaged: 2017-11-16 17:44:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,065
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/542136
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/amathela/pseuds/amathela
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dov, Gail, and horses.  (It's not as romantic as he'd like it to be.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Then All That You Built Will Come Tumbling Down

**Author's Note:**

> Spoilers up to episode _2:9 - Brotherhood_.

"I still don't understand why we're here," Gail says, wrinkling her nose at the smell as they walk into the stable. "Mounted unit training is over."

"Yeah, and I missed it," Dov says. Which starts her thinking about a whole bunch of other things, ones she's mostly been ignoring up until now. Maybe not all that successfully, but that's no reason to stop trying now.

"So?" she asks. "What, you think sneaking here is somehow going to fix that?"

"We're not sneaking in," he says. "I already asked permission."

Of course he did. What is he, Chris?

(No. No, he's not. She should try to remember that.)

So she asks the obvious question. "Permission for what?"

That's when he smiles, handing her a helmet that smells like it's been sitting in a laundry hamper for a week. "I'm going to tech you how to ride."

"I know how to ride a horse," she says, ignoring the helmet. She keeps ignoring it when Dov places it on her head; just because this is his little fantasy, doesn't mean she has to go along with it.

"Really?" he asks, raising an eyebrow. "Because Chris told me this story that -"

"Chris should learn to keep his mouth shut," she says.

"Oh, come on. I thought it was cute."

"It was mortifying."

"Gail, you were nine."

"And you weren't there."

He given her this look, then; the one he's been giving her for a while, maybe longer than she's noticed, like he wishes he had been. Like he wants to know everything about her, wants to be involved in every part of her life.

It's more than a little scary. Gail just - she isn't used to anyone wanting her this much.

"Come on," he says, and the look vanishes. She'll never quite be able to forget it was there, though. "It'll be fun, I swear. I'll take it easy on you."

That's the thing that does it, and he damn well had to have known it.

"I'm not afraid of a challenge," she says, stepping up to him. He's not a big guy, but he's taller than she is; it doesn't mean she can't stare him down.

"Is that so?" he asks. Cocky son of a bitch.

"Yeah," she says, strapping on her helmet. "That's so."

(Dov has to help her redo it, later, the straps all twisted and far too loose. That's not the point.)

A few minutes later they're in the practice yard, Gail sitting precariously astride some white monster that looks like it could probably fit her whole head inside its mouth. Which would not, according to her fuzzy memories, be entirely out of character for a horse. She still doesn't quite get the point of all this, except that Dov pretty much dared her to, but whatever, she's committed to it now. Besides - how bad can it be, really?

"Okay," Dov says. "How about we start off with a nice, easy walk?"

"I told you, you don't have to go easy on me," she says. She's not entirely sure why, but his smirk feels like a direct challenge to her pride, and she just can't help herself.

"Is that so?" he says. Like he was expecting it. "All right, then, we'll skip walking. Let's trot."

(Okay, so _this_ is how bad it can be.)

What feels like at least an hour later, but according to her watch is only a couple of minutes, Dov slows his horse down again, and Gail's follows suit. Stupid animals; if they just do whatever they want, why do they need somebody to ride them?

"So," he says. He barely sounds out of breath; she feel like she just ran a marathon. "How was that?"

Hell, but it's not like she's going to tell him that.

"Fine," she says, trying to keep her voice casual. "Is that all you've got?"

And then the smirk is back. It looks particularly evil now. "We haven't even tried cantering yet."

Oh, she can't wait.

Cantering is possibly even worse than trotting; not so jerky, almost painful, but harder to keep her balance. Dov rides like he's been doing it all his life, though, admittedly, it's not like she has much basis for comparison. Galloping is better, though - terrifying, but almost kind of fun. Almost.

"Ready to stop?" he asks, once they've gone through all that.

Gail shakes her head. She's come this far, there's no way she's giving up now.

"All right," he says. "Then let's try something that requires a little more finesse. See that glass of water on the post?"

"Of course I see it," she says. She may not be great at this, but she's still perfectly capable of seeing what's right in front of her.

(Actually - no, scratch that.)

"Good," he says. "I want you to pick it up, weave around the posts, and set it down again on the last one."

"Done," she says. It's a stupid glass of water, it can't be that hard.

(Okay, fine, maybe it can. Seriously, horses are the worst, she honestly does not get how Dov could possibly want to do this all time.)

"This is stupid," she says, after her third try. After her third failure, which isn't actually something she's ever experienced before. "Are you sure you're doing this right?"

"Chris and Andy told me all about it," he says. Like that somehow makes him an expert.

"Oh, well," she says, "if Chris and Andy told you."

"Hey," he says. "Come on, it can't be that hard."

"Yeah, so why don't you try it?"

He just smiles again, and it would be almost patronising if it weren't so genuine. "One more time. You can do this."

"Yeah," she mutters, moving her horse slowly up to the first post. At least it hasn't tried to throw her yet. "Sure I can."

Except, well. It turns out she can. Not on the fourth try, maybe, but by the seventh she's got it down, and on the eighth she doesn't even spill a drop.

"Are we finished now?" is all she says. Dov's smiling, impossibly wide; he can be excited enough for both of them.

Afterwards - once she's back on solid ground, finally, though her legs don't even feel like they can support her any more - he shows her how to brush down her horse, how to put away the saddle. It still smells like hay and horse crap, but she's almost used to it now; besides, it not like it's the worst thing she's ever smelled in this job.

"So," she says, taking her helmet off. She's suddenly glad there are no mirrors in here; she doesn't even want to think about what her hair looks like right now. "Why'd sign up for all this if you already know how to ride?"

"I'm not exactly an expert," he says.

Yeah, well, beside her, he looks like one.

"Besides." He shrugs, glancing at her. "I like horses."

"Why?" It's automatic, not like she meant to ask it, but seriously.

Dov just laughs.

"No, I'm serious," she says. "They smell bad and they're huge and seriously, they could trample a person. Besides, I'm pretty sure that one just looked at me."

He raises an eyebrow. "Looked at you?"

"I'm telling you, they're evil." A shudder completes the statement, but it's involuntary, not for effect.

"It's okay," he says. "I'll protect you."

He should be teasing her - a minute ago, they were joking - but his voice is oddly serious. Like he doesn't mean from a stupid horse right now; like he means from everything, forever.

"Dov," she says. Because he's not supposed to do this, they had some - whatever, unspoken agreement or something. Or at least, he hasn't talked about it since it happened, and neither has she, so she just assumed.

"I know," he says, like he can hear everything she's not saying. And then his expression changes, hurt and rejection and what looks a little bit like acceptance, giving that same fake smile, and she hates it. Not that he looks that way, but that she knows; a couple of weeks ago she wouldn't even have noticed, wouldn't have seen anything, and now she can't make herself unsee it.

"Thank you," she says, because she can't think of what else to say. "Really, I had -"

"Don't say you had fun," she says; his smile looks genuine, now. "You're actually a terrible liar."

"I am not," she says. Which is maybe a stupid thing to be protesting, but she has to be good at something today, her ego's already too bruised.

"Oh, yeah?" he asks. "So prove it. Lie to me."

"We should go home," she says. Operating on autopilot, maybe; it's not like she meant it to be a response to his challenge. Probably.

Dov's eyes still darken, and he moves towards her. So she should probably clear this up, before -

"Gail," he says, and it's not like he moves quickly; it's not like she couldn't stop him if she wanted to. But she feels like she's frozen, buried somewhere under a glacier ( _those are your feelings,_ Dov would joke) and the whole world is moving a thousand times faster than she's capable of. Dov puts one hand on her waist, and then the other; steps forward, and in the end, maybe he kisses her, or maybe she's the one who kisses him. It's not like it really matters, either way.

She closes her eyes as he walks her backwards, pressing her against the wall, lips parting. She gasps into his mouth as his hands slide up, under the fabric of her shirt, finding bare skin; he freezes for a second, as if shocked, and then grips her, hard. Everything after that is kind of a blur - Dov kissing down her neck, her collarbone, their fingers entangling as they work together to unfasten her pants, and then his - but she breathes in, sharp, as he enters her, opens her eyes, and she thinks the look on his face in that moment is going to be seared into her memory.

It's not actually the worst place she's ever had sex (thank you, Mark Laughlin and the eleventh grade field trip), but it's close. She focuses on that in the aftermath, because it's the only thing she can think about without going crazy.

"Hey," Dov says. He waits, pauses until she looks at him; his expression is tight, hard to read, but she doesn't think he looks sorry. She's glad; this wasn't (entirely) his fault. "Still scared of horses?"

It isn't what she expected him to say, at all, and she can't help it; it makes her laugh. "I think at this point, they're scared of us," she says. "Besides, I was never scared of them."

"Yeah, right," he says, and it's ridiculous, the way they can fall right back into this, but it's also not entirely surprising. "I'm sure that's why you nearly screamed when I handed you the reins."

"They were right near its mouth," she protests; her pants aren't even fully buttoned yet. "They have teeth, you know."

"Everybody has teeth, Gail."

"Not that homeless guy we picked up for drunk and disorderly last week."

Dov grins, like it's some kind of fond memory; more like one of the worst shifts of her life. "Okay," he says. "That I will grant you."

"Dov," she says, and she doesn't have to say anything else. His expression goes from joking to serious in a heartbeat, and he lays a hand on her arm.

"It'll be okay," he says. And that shouldn't fix anything, it isn't even a plan, but it makes her feel better all the same.

"Yeah, whatever," she says, because it's easier to brush it off, even though she's pretty sure Dov can see right through her by now. "I just meant, can we get the hell out here now? These things still creep me out."

"You mean, these majestic animals?" he asks, and then actually reaches over to touch one. Like, for fun. "Fine, we can get out of here. But we're getting something to eat on the way home, I'm starving."

"Of course you are," she says. "Chinese?"

"Extra dumplings for Chris?"

Yeah, like that will make it up to him. Maybe that part comes later.

"Yeah," she says. "Extra dumplings for Chris. But he's going to have to share."


End file.
